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…the peculiar conditions of the United States forbid a blind following of the heraldic laws of any one country, and the bearing of arms here can only be governed by a general knowledge of heraldry, an appreciation of circumstances, and the exercise of good judgment and good taste in the treatment of each individual case. –Eugene Zieber

I’m now officially hanging my shingle as a heraldic designer for Americans who wish to assume their own arms.

To the extent that it is thought of at all, the topic of heraldry—the use of armorial achievements, badges, and coats of arms—probably seems impossibly archaic, effete, and elitist to most modern Americans. And yet, American history is rich in personal, military, and civic heraldry. About one-half of the signers of the Declaration of Independence bore arms of some sort, including John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin, and George Washington.

Today, the practice of heraldry is more widespread than ever. The first question that often arises—who has the right to bear arms—remains a controversial one among those acquainted with the subject. It remains a common misconception among Americans that “family crests” (as they are often mistakenly called) are the sole reserve of nobility or gentry, but this has no real historical merit when one looks at European history in general. Only in Great Britain are armorial achievements traditionally associated with gentry or nobility. This was not the case in most of Europe. Of course nobles and gentry bore arms, but it did not follow that all who bore arms were noble or gentry. In many cases, they weren’t.

In practice, heraldry was largely unregulated in most of Europe. And with the notable exception of the British Isles, it remains largely unregulated today. Heraldry began with feudal nobility around the early 12th Century, but it quickly spread down through the classes in medieval societies, first among lords and knights, then trickling down to merchants and tradesmen. In many parts of Europe, even peasants bore arms. (During the reign of Louis XIV, arms were actually imposed on peasants, in order to tax their use.)

It’s important to note that heraldry was born of custom rather than law. For the better part of the Middle Ages, assuming arms and informal inheritance were the only means for a person to acquire arms. These are the arms one finds in the earliest armorial rolls like the Armorial Wijnbergen, in which arms were recorded but not necessarily regulated. In fact, the first known official “grant” of arms appears in the mid-14th Century, issued by the Duke of Bourbon.
Heraldry doesn’t really begin to be regulated in most parts of Europe until the 16th Century, and even then it was often rather lax and inconsistent in practice. Some countries, like Switzerland, never regulated it at all. In contrast, Scotland and England were and remain the most high-handed of all heraldic authorities. But even in strictest Scotland, arms weren’t tightly regulated until around 1672.

In Continental Europe, the self-assumed arms of non-nobles like merchants and tradesmen were often called “burgher arms”, and coexisted for centuries with the arms of nobility. Burgher arms were largely unregulated, and this remains the rule in most parts of Europe. Many of these middle-class arms came to be used in America. For example, the Roosevelt arms (three roses on stems on a white shield) is an example of humble Dutch burgher arms that eventually became one of the most well-known emblems in the American upper class.

The arms of nobles weren’t all that different from those of the middle and lower classes, although they tended to be more elaborate: in most of Europe, supporters and crowns are still reserved only for nobility, and in the U.S. only cities, states, and governmental departments have supporters on their coats of arms.

America has a deep heraldic tradition, and while there are a handful of independent nonprofit associations who record American arms, there is no official institution that governs the use of heraldic arms in the United States. Since the founding of the U.S. there have been several attempts at setting up an American heraldic authority, but all of them have failed for various reasons. Thus in America, new personal arms are assumed, not matriculated or granted, as they are in Britain. In many ways, the conditions of heraldry in the United States resemble that of Twelfth-Century Europe.

American heraldry draws primarily from British heraldry, but since this country is a cultural melting pot, American heraldry also draws from the Continental European tradition of “burgher arms”, in which merchants, tradesmen, or even peasants could and often did assume their own arms. American heraldry is a synthesis of these European traditions, using whatever rules are deemed relevant and befitting a republic.

In America, as was the case in Early Medieval Europe, heraldry as it is practiced takes precedence over heraldry as it is governed. Early Americans, being hard-nosed pragmatists, were not fastidious armigers. They used whatever arms were passed down to them, disregarded the ancient British practice of cadency or marshalling, and asked few questions. Armorial seals were not fawned over as aesthetic objects: they were devices used to authenticate documents and claim ownership of expensive items. If they served their function then that was sufficient, as far as their bearers were concerned. The Gore Roll, the oldest American armorial roll, is full of arms that are of erroneous or dubious provenance. Nevertheless, many of these arms are still used by descendants of earlier bearers. The marks of difference (stars, crescents, etc.) seen in many of these arms were intended to be only temporary marks of difference between siblings. But after being passed down through the generations completely unchanged, they’ve become permanent, historical elements in those arms, which the current bearers wouldn’t dare remove. Thus these traditions, which may have had specious beginnings, can gain an informal legitimacy over time, just as they did in Europe.
Beyond military and civic heraldry, American coats of arms do not represent anything other than the associations, families, or people who bear them. They do not take on the trappings of nobility like supporters, garters, or crowns—and so confer no status, privilege, or title. With this in mind, objecting to the use of heraldry makes as much sense as objecting to the widespread use of surnames. An American coat of arms serves the same function as a person’s name, but in a symbolic form. This may sound pretentious, until you realize that heraldry was born during a time when few people could read.

For some, a coat of arms wouldn’t mean anything to them unless it was passed down from a direct ancestor. This is a perfectly valid, respectable point of view. But for those who wish to participate in their clan’s heraldic practices and establish a new tradition to pass down to their descendants, assuming arms is a far more valid option than buying the cheap, bogus “traditions” sold by online “bucket shops” that sell the same poorly-rendered coat of arms to as many unwitting Joneses and Smiths as they possibly can.

Assumed arms would not enjoy the same prestige as arms granted by the Court of Lord Lyon, but a humbler, simpler form of heraldry seems appropriate for a society that eschews crowns, knighthoods, and titles. In general, an American coat of arms should honor the bearer, the family, ancestors and descendants–but it should not elevate them.

Since the US has no regulating body for civilian heraldry, it’s important that Americans seeking to assume arms consult with people who know the rules and traditions of European heraldry, and are able to bring them into a synthesis that is practical and relevant in an American context. Heraldry has been an interest of mine for almost forty years. I specialize in making personal or family emblems, badges, sigils, seals, coats of arms, and flags. These designs are intended to be used in a variety of ways for generations to come. STYLE: I obey traditional principles of good heraldic design: proper usage of colors, simplicity of imagery, etc. My designs are bold and flat because they are symbols, not pictures. They are meant to be immediately recognized from a distance; that was their original purpose. PROCESS: I like to get a basic family background (country of origin, ethnicity, any heraldic traditions in the family) then get the individual bearer’s personal background (profession, interests, etc) and finally their aspirations or ideals, things that they find symbolically significant. I synthesize all three of these aspects and make emblems that are strong, simple, and lasting. FEES: Basic fee for designing a coat of arms is $300. It includes two rounds of revisions and two files: a JPEG for online use and a PDF for print use. Adapting artwork for a flag is $150 extra. All designs are owned entirely by the bearer, and are able to be resized to suit many uses. BADGES AND FLAGS: I don’t just do heraldry: if shields and helmets aren’t your thing, and you want something more modern, I also design personal badges and flags. CONTACT: allen(at)allencrawford.net.

Once every fifteen years, I get on a heraldry kick. I recently did a quick doodle of my ancestor’s coat of arms: Crawford of Ardmillan, an older branch of Clan Crawford whose family seat was in Ayrshire, where they were sheriffs for generations. Among my branch’s multiple claims to fame (including repelling a major Viking invasion by delaying them until the autumn storms destroyed their fleet) is that its founder was the maternal uncle of William Wallace. But enough bragging about historical trivia that I had nothing to do with…

If you start googling around for examples of heraldry, you’ll see a lot of heraldic illustrators who get caught up in their own facility, like graf artists will often do. They’ll often go way overboard with rendering everything, which is counter to the purpose of heradlry. The thing about heraldry is that it’s best when flat: they’re meant to function as symbols, first and foremost. Heraldry looks better when rendered in a flat, bold graphic style–much like the devices on the shields themselves, which were meant to be immediately recognizable on a chaotic battlefield.

One of my all-time favorite illustrated books is a children’s book of heraldry by Don Pottinger & Iain Moncreiffe, called Simple Heraldry, Cheerfully Illustrated–and it is. Published in 1953, the book is a joy: very informative to those new to the subject. The illustrations are brilliant: the figures are supple and the line work is spontaneous and vital. I could never match it. But the colors–the colors!–are something special: they’re those wonderful British postwar colors that you never see anymore, like royal blue and firecracker red. You want to eat them.

So yeah: one of my favorite things is thousand year-old coats of arms rendered in a mid-century style.

The good folks at the Society of Illustrators called today and informed me that Whitman Illuminated has won the Gold Medal in their Book category! My heartfelt thanks to the Society of Illustrators. I can’t imagine a greater honor.

The opening reception for the annual book and editorial exhibition will take place at the Society of Illustrators on Feb. 5, 2016.

A case for “unreadable” books like mine: “In 2010, psychologists at Princeton University published “Fortune Favors the Bold (and the Italicized),” a study demonstrating that people have better recall of what they’ve read when it is printed in smaller, less legible type. Texts presented in unusual typefaces (…) created “disfluency” in readers, triggering deeper processing and significantly improved retention. When people are forced to stare at something to decipher what it says, it sticks with them.”

Spent the better part of May working with the folks at BBH London on a series of print ads for Symonds Founder’s Reserve Cider, which will be running over the coming months throughout the UK and Ireland. It seems that these ads will be inescapable if you use mass transit in Great Britain over the coming summer (My friends in the UK have been sending photos of these train platform ads and billboards, asking me if I had done them, or if someone has been copying my style).

The team at BBH were great to work with, and I thank them for making my job easier throughout the approval process. This project also allows me a significant window of time over the coming months to concentrate on the next books I hope to publish.

I like working with clients outside the US, because I often find that in many ways, one has much greater creative latitude (I’m fairly certain that there’s no way any agency in the US right now would or could sign off on these illustration-dependent, copy-heavy ads).

BTW: I’m currently seeking representation outside the US, so please contact me if this interests.

“Honored” doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel right now after hearing that Whitman Illuminated: Song of Myself has been selected as Best of Show in 3×3‘s International Professional Show (no. 12). I never imagined that I would receive such an honor; after 25 years of working as a graphic artist, this is one of the sweetest moments of my professional life. My sincerest thanks to 3×3, the judges, and my publisher, Tin House. I certainly hope this leads to more opportunities for me to bust my tail. I am working on two books right now, and I am optimistic that I will find homes for them. I’m more hopeful about the future now than I have been in a very long time.